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    Wings in the Spanish Legion by Lee Robinson

    Page 3
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      legionario? ” demanded

      trying to see how close he could skim the

      an artillery general, arriving with his glittering

      ground without touching it, he almost drove

      staff.

      his backbone through his skull at the smashing

      “Out of the way, up there!” shouted

      impact. Four times he bounced, and each time

      Aldridge, easing open the throttle in something seemed to break, each time he desperation lest he be ordered to dismount.

      landed nearer the ground. But the motor still

      “That Legion!” he heard an thrummed without a flicker. When he waddled exclamation, as the amphibian moved. A lopsidedly up to the hill, Sollano and Catozzi cheer was drowned in his ears as he shoved

      were running to meet him.

      the throttle open and careered wildly down the

      “That duck’s got a broken leg!”

      beach.

      shrieked the Italian excitedly.

      Far beyond the Spanish lines, with

      “To hell with the leg!” retorted

      tribesmen shooting at him and the gunboat’s

      Aldridge. “What we need is wings. Turn her

      shells geysering sand and smoke nearby, he

      around, and get aboard. Look what’s coming!”

      pulled resolutely on the stick. Over the desert

      With sidelong glances at the landing

      Frontier Stories

      10

      gear, they turned the machine and climbed

      their hands describing circles in the air.

      breathlessly in. A wave of yelling horsemen

      Another backward glance revealed his

      thundered toward them. Calmly Aldridge passengers doing the same thing.

      opened the throttle, pressed the machine-gun

      With the white-flecked waves dancing

      trigger and charged straight into their midst.

      under him, Aldridge cut his motor and nosed

      A wing tip fouled one of the horsemen,

      downward in a long glide.

      and the amphibian ground looped. Dizzily

      “Wheels!” he caught, in Sollano’s

      Aldridge jammed on the gas, lumbered off in

      frenzied accents.

      the new direction and shoved the stick

      Turning in his seat, Aldridge nodded

      forward. Ahead of him was another wave of

      with an assured grin toward the water. To the

      howling riders, and bullets were screaming off

      best of his understanding, the landing gear had

      the metal cowling over the motor.

      probably carried away at the impact with the

      The nearest horsemen were almost charging horsemen. He wondered why all under the roaring propeller when Aldridge airplanes were not amphibians; certainly, if he pulled the stick back and felt the wheels leave

      ever bought one, it would be nothing else. As

      the ground. The next instant there was a it was—well, he knew no special technique rattling jolt, a dragging sensation below, and

      about landing on water, but he could certainly

      as he leaned back on the tugging stick the

      never learn up there in the air!

      amphibian rocketed toward the white-hot sky

      Settling

      rapidly

      toward the sunlit bay,

      of Morocco like a thing frightened out of its

      he watched the unloading transport appear in

      wits.

      front of him, and lowered the tail of the

      Hot dog! This was living!

      amphibian with the intention of skimming into

      He caught himself wishing the cadets

      the trough of the shallow waves.

      and instructors at Brooks Field could see him

      Swiftly, while he unstrapped his safety

      now, muddling through an experience for belt and noted that his terrified passengers which any one of them would have given his

      were following his example, the transport and

      back teeth. More than all, as he straightened

      the crowded lighters whizzed nearer. Directly

      toward the dancing Mediterranean with between the transport and the cruiser he laid victory screaming from his wings, he wished

      his course, wondering vaguely why both ships

      his hardrock father might see him now, and be

      were hurriedly lowering lifeboats.

      present at his triumphant landing.

      Suddenly his head snapped backward,

      A quick glance he stole toward his

      almost breaking his craning neck, as the keel

      passengers, and grinned at the scared look on

      of the amphibian apparently snagged

      the faces of the two desert hellions who something. The next instant a raging torrent of gripped the sides of the cockpit as if they were

      heavy green water swirled over his head, a

      afraid of soaring up to heaven in heavy hundred giant hands tried to tear him limb marching order, hobnails and all.

      from limb, and something struck him a

      Again, while he wondered at the resounding whack on the head.

      strangely increased propeller torque, Sidi Dris

      The world went out——

      was streaming under him. Sollano and Catozzi

      were yelling fit to burst their throats, and

      FOR a long time he lay in a pleasant doze.

      Aldridge looked back to see them pointing

      Gradually came memory of the attack on

      excitedly toward the ground.

      Hassi Axdar, the forced march to Djebel

      Down there all was confusion. Messaua, the triumphant flight in the Everybody seemed to be running around with

      amphibian and the unexplained crash.

      Wings in the Spanish Legion

      11

      He stared at a strange world, a world

      out there, though, and entered a civilian flying

      of the dim past.

      school. But my father snapped the

      To begin with, he was covered with a

      pocketbook.”

      spotless sheet. Narrow white walls hemmed

      “And you snapped your fingers!”

      him in. To his ears came the throb of engines,

      “I did, sir.”

      the slap and swish of water. At sea!

      “Father know where you are?”

      Anxiously flexing his limbs, he was

      “No, sir. And he doesn’t care a hell of

      relieved to find that, barring a soreness in his

      a lot.”

      lungs and an aching head, he was apparently

      “Oh, yes, he does.” disagreed the

      intact. Weakly he climbed from the berth,

      general, as the gray-bearded war

      discovered that he was attired in pajamas, that

      correspondent squeezed the bulb of his

      his head was bandaged and that he was camera. “I’m a father, myself. I have a couple almightily hungry. On a determined hunt for

      of fire-crackery sons, and I know. How about

      breakfast and information, he opened the door

      it, Mr. Royos? You’re going to give the boy a

      and stepped out.

      good write-up, aren’t you?”

      Across the quarterdeck, off the

      “You know I am, mi general. I saw

      starboard beam, he stared at the familiar both his landings.”

      brown heights of the Cape of Three Forks.

      “Well,

      legionario, how would you like

      From the port beam slanted the pristine rays of

      for Mr. Royos to send a copy of his paper

      the morning sun.

      containing the story to your father?”

      Melilla

      bound!

      “All right, sir,” grinned
    Aldridge.

      “Hey,

      legionario! ” called a voice, and

      “What’s the address?” asked Royos,

      Aldridge moved across the immaculate deck

      producing pencil and notebook.

      toward a group of beribboned officers and a

      “Aldridge Mining Company, Salt

      gray-bearded civilian seated on deck chairs. A

      Spring, Nevada, U. S. A. My sister can read it

      dapper young officer arose and shoved his

      to him, I guess. She knows school Spanish,

      chair behind Aldridge, who remained and he knows a little Mexican. What I can’t standing.

      understand, though, is how I happened to

      “Feel

      like

      taking

      another flight?” crash yesterday.”

      smiled the artillery general who had yelled at

      “Your landing gear was broken,”

      him on the beach at Sidi Dris.

      chuckled the general reminiscently. “There

      “Yes, sir,” grinned the American, was something tangled in it—a djellaba, if while a medical officer felt his pulse. “But I’d

      nothing else—and the whole thing hung pretty

      like to eat, first.”

      low and fouled a wave. The machine turned a

      “There goes your breakfast now,” twisting somersault. You were fished up rather pointed the general. “Take it into his unconscious, with possible internal injuries, so stateroom,, steward. Er—Mr. Royos, here, we brought you on to Melilla. Your wants to take your picture, legionario, for his passengers were unhurt, and rejoined their

      paper. He’s a war correspondent. Any company at Sidi Dris.”

      objections?”

      “That’s what I want to do,” wailed

      “No,

      sir.”

      Aldridge.

      “Good! And now tell us where on

      “He’ll be all right, sir,” said the

      earth you learned to fly.”

      medical officer, in answer to the general’s

      “I half-learned, sir, with the United

      questioning glance.

      States Army, at Brooks Field, Texas. I washed

      “All

      right,

      legianarlo, ” laughed the

      Frontier Stories

      12

      general. “This ship goes back to Sidi Dris to-

      paper: ‘Dear Dad: Does this sound like an

      night with more troops, and you can remain

      “adenoid aviator?” Jack.’ Be sure to put

      aboard and report to your company ‘adenoid aviator’ in quotation marks.”

      commander upon arrival. That satisfactory?”

      There was a roar of laughter from the

      “Thank you, sir,” said Aldridge, group of officers as Royos explained.

      inching toward his stateroom as a warm odor

      “Why the quotation marks,

      of coffee, rolls and beefsteak emerged with

      legionario? ” asked the general, his ample

      the steward.

      stomach shaking with mirth.

      “By the way,” called Royos, producing

      “They,” grinned the American, from

      his notebook again. “Any message to go with

      his stateroom door, “are to enclose the last two

      the paper to your father? I speak and write

      words the old boy spoke to me; his newest

      English, and I’ll fix up a good letter in your

      nickname for me, in fact. Say, Mr. Royos,

      own words, if you’ll give me a few pointers.”

      how’s to add a little postscript to that

      “Get a big red lumber pencil,” directed

      message? Something like—er—‘love to you

      Aldridge sardonically, in English, “and write

      and Sis!’”

      in boxcar letters, across the whole page of the

     

     

     



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